"That answer has the merit of truth," said her visiter calmly. "You have mentioned the precise reason that keeps people out of the kingdom of heaven. 'Ye will not come unto me, that ye might have life,' the Lord said to some of them when he was upon earth. 'When they shall see him, there is no beauty that they should desire him.'" "Well, I cannot help that," said Rotha. "No,--" said her visiter slowly, "you cannot help that; but it does not excuse you." "Why, how can I be a Christian, when I _dont want to?_" "How can you do anything else that you do not want to do? Duty remains duty, does it not?" "But religion is not outside work." "No." "Mother says, it is the love of God. How can I make myself love him?" "Poor child!" said her visiter. "When you are in earnest about that question it will not be difficult to find the answer." He rose up. "Then I may send the shirts I spoke of?" "Yes," said Rotha; "but I don't know about the price. Mother does not want anything but the proper pay; and she does all her work particularly." "Are you afraid I shall give her too much?" "She does not want too much." "I will arrange that with her. Stay,--we have not been introduced to each other. You may call me Mr. Digby; what may I call you?" "Rotha Carpenter." "Good morning, Rotha," said the gentleman, offering his hand. Rotha shyly took it, and he went away. Half an hour afterwards, Mrs. Carpenter came home. She came slowly up the short flight of stairs, and sat down by her fireside as if she was tired. She was pale, and she coughed now and then. "Mother," began Rotha, full of the new event, "somebody has been here since you have been away." "A messenger from Mr. Farquharson? I shall have the things done to- morrow, I hope." "No messenger at all, and no tailor, nor any such horrid person. Mother, what is a 'gentleman'?" "What makes you ask?" "Because Mrs. Marble said this man was a gentleman. He's a missionary. Do you know what a 'city missionary' means, mother?" "Yes, in general." "The same as a foreign missionary, only he does not go out of the country?" "He does his work in the city." "But there are no heathen in New York." "There are worse." "Worse? what can be worse?" "It is worse to see the light and refuse it, than never to have had the choice." "Then I should think it would be better not to send missionaries to the heathen." "Rotha, take my bonnet and cloak, dear, and put them away; and make me some tea, will you?" "Why mother, it is not tea-time yet." "No matter; I am tired, and cold." "But you didn't tell me what a gentleman is?" pursued Rotha, beginning now to bustle about and do as she was told. "Wait till I have had some tea. How much tea is left, Rotha?" "Well, I guess, enough to last almost a week," said the girl, peering into the box which did duty for a tea-caddy.